


Forgive and Forget

by MeMarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drarry, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Multi, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeMarie/pseuds/MeMarie
Summary: Harry knew things had changed after the war. But he didn't know just how different coming back to Hogwarts would be when everyone is trying to figure out who they were before the war, and more importantly, who they want to be after it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Forgive and Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Another eighth year fic that absolutely no one asked for.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated<3

The door to The Three broomsticks hung heavy after him as Harry felt the warmness of the bar quickly take the place of the November chill that clung to his bones. He'd left in such a hurry he forgot to take his gloves and scarf despite Hermione's warnings of cold weather. Fall had begun to turn into winter and days were getting colder and darker. Soon it would be Christmas, but Harry couldn't make himself feel excited. Everything that happened after the war had gone by in a blur and Harry hadn't allowed himself to be properly happy. It wasn't like he was sad or depressed like Ron and Hermione sometimes seemed to think. He continued his life like he was expected to, which meant returning to Hogwarts with his friends to complete his studies. They studied, made plans about their futures, dated... Pretty much everything you would expect from regular 18-year-olds. For someone else, it might almost seem like everything had gone back to normal. Yet, everything was completely different, and despite how it appeared, they were not regular 18-year-olds. Harry knew Ron was still grieving his brother, and although they acted normal with each other; laughing and joking like they used to, he would sometimes catch his best friend staring into nothingness with a blank expression for just a moment too long. It was the small things that bothered him the most. The empty spots at tables, the uncomfortably quiet moments, the way people desperately tried to pretend like everything was normal. Harry knew his friends felt the same way about him, and as much as he loved them, sometimes he felt like he needed to get away and be alone with his thoughts. Today was one of those days.

Harry had left the warmth of the common-room in hopes of clearing his mind and had found himself wondering around Hogsmead. With no clear goal for his wondering, however, he'd decided to get a drink from the bar he'd visited so often in the past.  
He could immediately see how empty the place was. With the laughter and loud chattering, that Harry had grown so familiar with, long gone, the bar seemed cold and foreign.

He sat on one of the wooden chairs and ordered the first thing that came to his mind. Taking a quick look around, he noticed most of the customers sitting alone, deep in thought much like himself.  
Suddenly something at the table next to his caught his eye; a mop of white-blonde hair, attached to a thin, long frame that was hunched over an untouched pint of Merlin knows what. Harry's eyes widened in surprise; hair that white could only belong to-

"Malfoy?"

The boy lifted his head in alarm at the mention of his name. Piercing grey eyes wandered frantically around the pub before landing on Harry. His face that had been twisted with, what almost seemed like fear, settled to a neutral, lazy, expression.

"What do you want, Potter?" he asked, and Harry couldn't help but notice his tone lacking the usual malice. He sounded tired. For some reason, it made Harry uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here? It's weird seeing you in a pub alone."

"And you would obviously know what's weird for me, wouldn't you Potter. After all, we know each other so well," he answered sarcastically sounding more like his usual self.

"After you were obsessed with making my life miserable for six years? Yeah, I'd say so," Harry replied scoffing.

Malfoy huffed "That's a bit rich coming from you, don't you think? I specifically remember instancies of you _stalking_ me in sixth year."

"Well as it turns out, I had a rather good reason to do so, wouldn't you say."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy just sighed and looked down at his glass.

"Whatever" he grumbled quietly enough for Harry to almost not hear it.

Harry waited for a snarky remark that never came. Malfoy seemed to have gone back to his thoughts, staring into nothingness. He looked somewhat melancholic, and Harry almost scowled at how much the pitiful expression didn't suit him. If there had been one thing Harry was sure would never change, it was his dislike for Malfoy. But looking at the gloomy boy before him, he wasn't so sure anymore. After the war, Harry didn't exactly know where he stood with Malfoy. Malfoy had saved them in the manor and Harry had done the same to him later in the Room of Requirement. Perhaps that was why Harry had felt compelled to testify in his favour at his trials. Of course, there was also the fact that Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry's life, if only for Draco's sake. Although Malfoy had briefly thanked Harry after the trials in an encounter that Harry remembered to be painfully awkward, he scarcely thought they would ever become amicable.

Harry supposed the best word to describe their relationship after that was somewhat awkward. Clearly, neither of them knew how to act around each other now that they weren't enemies. Awkward nods of acknowledgement had been exchanged upon encounters, as well as the stiff -but surprisingly polite- "Potter" that Malfoy would utter whenever their eyes met in the hallways.

Harry had told himself that he felt utterly indifferent about Malfoy. They weren't enemies, and they certainly weren't friends. He was just another student that Harry would occasionally come across in class or their now shared common-room for eighth-year students.  
However, with Malfoy now in front of him and no other distractions in sight, Harry felt his interest spike slightly.  
In fact, Harry found himself almost concerned. Just almost. Now that he really thought about it, Malfoy looked pretty bad. His limp overgrown hair that Harry was so used to seeing neatly sleeked back was now messily falling over his eyes. Dark grey shadows decorated his eyes of almost the same colour. His already slender frame seemed now even thinner under his black robes, which Harry hadn't thought was possible. Suddenly he was reminded of the moment in the bathroom in sixth year, and he couldn't help but notice that Malfoy looked eerily similar to how he'd looked that day, crouched over the sink, crying and shaking, discomfort glazing his features. Harry quickly shook off the unpleasant memory.

Harry ran his hands through his already dishevelled hair, leaving strands sticking up in random directions. Suddenly he felt bad about snapping at Malfoy. Harry considered just ignoring him and going back to his depressing thoughts, but his curiosity took the best of him once again. He cleared his voice and turned to face the other boy who was too immersed in his... studying? To notice. While Harry had been busy with his mental conflict, Malfoy had pulled out books from his bag and was now flipping through them, occasionally stopping to write something down on the parchment laid down in front of him. Well, that's a weird thing to do in a bar, Harry thought. He cleared his throat again.

"So, uh, what are you doing here?" he asked.

Malfoy turned to him again, this time looking confused and slightly irritated. He seemed to want to say something rude- perhaps to tell Harry to mind his business- but decided against it, his features softening under Harry's earnest gaze.

"Studying" he replied curtly.

"Oh," said Harry. "Why don't you just do it in the castle?"

Malfoy's calculating gaze lingered on Harry before he shrugged tentatively. "It's quiet here. I can't focus in the common room with you and your Gryffindor friends being all loud and... Gryffindor."

Harry almost reminded him that Gryffindors weren't the only students in the common room, but thought better of it. Come to think of it, Harry hadn't actually seen Malfoy in the common room apart from the few times when he'd hurriedly sprint to the dormitories late at night when Harry happened to be up late studying.

"Do you always come here, then?" Harry asked, surprised.

"No," Malfoy answered nonchalantly scribbling something down in his tiny handwriting. "I spend a lot of time in the library, empty classrooms. I prefer being out of the castle, though. No angry students trying to hex me here." he mumbled somewhat bitterly.

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You know, the angry group of fifth or sixth years who keep following me and reminding me how much I'm not wanted here."

"You're joking, right?"

"Dead serious," Malfoy said.

Harry hesitated, "well have you tried, you know, being nice?"

Malfoy scoffed loudly, "come on Potter, even you can't be that naive." He finally turned to face Harry. "Has it escaped your notice that I'm the only eighth-year Slytherin who came back? There's a reason for that. Everyone here despises me...Even the younger Slytherins pretend like I'm not here, and you're telling me to _be nice_?"

"No, I just mean, your name was cleared in the trial, and the war is over. Surely you could-"

Malfoy let out an exasperated sigh, "You really think people are just going to forgive and forget? You think that just because you got me out of Azkaban out of pity, everything's gonna be like it was before the war? I was a-"

He looked around eyes roaming the room and leaned closer to Harry. Harry leaned back at instinct. Malfoy lowered his voice and continued.

"I was a _Death eater_ , Potter. People aren't just gonna let that go, no matter how nice I become."

His piercing grey eyes bore into Harry's, making him want to look away. Malfoy then turned back to his books, disregarding Harry, his earlier calm composure taking over his countenance.

"I-, Sorry, I didn't realise." Harry stammered flabbergasted. He didn't know what he had expected Malfoy to say, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Yeah well, why would you? It's not your problem. Everyone loves you and your friends, you're all fucking heroes as far as they're concerned." Malfoy didn't even sound especially angry, he just sounded like he was stating a fact.

Harry disregarded his comment awkwardly.

"It's still not right for them to harass you. What are they even getting out of it? Voldemort's dead, there's no point," he said, ignoring Malfoy as he flinched at the name.

When Malfoy paid no mind to him, Harry continued,

"You should at least defend yourself. You can't let them walk all over you by hiding away, it's exactly what they want!"

"It's not as if though I can do anything to defend myself, is it? Don't you understand? If I as much as point my wand at them, I'll be on the next train to London. They'll use any excuse they can to get me expelled." Malfoy said, all spite from his tone gone.

Harry didn't reply. He didn't know what to say. He was so baffled by what he'd just learned; Malfoy hiding from other students to avoid getting bullied? It was about the least Malfoy thing Harry could think of, and the whole thing just sounded utterly ridiculous. Malfoy, the most insufferable, infuriating _git_ had turned into this subdued version of himself that honestly reminded Harry more of a kicked puppy than the Malfoy he remembered from their earlier school years.

Despite everything having changed so much, Harry had relied on Malfoy to stay the same. After all, Malfoy had always been the one constant in Harry's chaotic life. In the mids of all the craziness that each school year had brought, there had always been the arrogant, annoying, sarcastic Malfoy for Harry to dislike and complain about (and obsess over, Hermione and Ron would say). So it just didn't feel right to see him like this. It made Harry slightly uncomfortable. He almost wished Malfoy would suddenly start shouting insults at him, so he could stop feeling, what awfully seemed like sympathy towards him. But Harry had no such luck, and Malfoy continued working in peace as if Harry's presence didn't bother him in the slightest. And it probably didn't, Harry thought. Why would it? They weren't fifteen anymore, and the childish animosity between them was left far behind.

"Can I, uh, can I do something then?" he asked.

Malfoy raised his head. "Do _what_ , exactly?"

"To help, I mean."

Malfoy looked at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads.

"To help," he said flatly.

"Like you said, you can't defend yourself, so why not? We mostly have the same classes anyway, so we can walk together, and I'll make sure no one attacks you."

"God Potter, I'm not a charity case."

"No, of course not. I didn't mean that I just thought-"

Malfoy cut him off, suddenly sounding annoyed, "You thought you could play the hero again and save the pathetic, lonely death eater, huh?"

"No, no, nothing like that! I just-,"

"No, save it, Potter. I get that you have a hero complex, but I'm not about to become your next project, I'm doing just fine on my own." Malfoy said, standing up. He started shoving his books into his too-small bag.

"God, why do you have to be so difficult!" Harry said, standing up as well.

" _I'm_ difficult? _You_ are the one who just marched in here and started bothering me!" Malfoy said incredulously. "Believe it or not, not everyone wants to be saved by the great Harry Potter." he sneered.

Suddenly Harry realised how quiet it had gotten, and how loudly they must have been arguing. The whole bar seemed to be watching them with great interest. Great, this was just what he needed. He could already see the headlines in the Prophet; " _The boy who lived caught fighting in a bar, eyewitnesses interviewed"_.

Before he could do anything, Malfoy stormed past him without saying a word and left the bar, the door closing loudly behind him. Harry threw on his jacket, not bothering to pull up the zipper, and ran after him.  
Cold wind hit him in the face as soon as he stepped outside. The sky had grown much darker, and tiny flakes of snow were spiralling to the ground at high speed, leaving it sparkling white in the light of the golden street lamps. Harry wished he'd taken his scarf.

Harry looked around, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. The quickly falling snow had already covered his footprints, and Harry was in no mood to go wandering around in the cold. Besides, he really didn't care about Malfoy enough to go chasing after him in the snowfall. Irritated, he decided to head back to the castle. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and started making his way back, his thoughts once again occupied by a certain unbearable Slytherin.


End file.
